Not Very Funny

This entry is not going to be funny. There is nothing funny about having scan-man remeasure our lovely energetic baby tummy twice, then look at us with puppy dog eyes and pronounce that the baby remains too small. That he can, however, rule out gradual placental failure as the blood flow to the baby remains satisfactory. That at this stage, therefore, the baby will not benefit from an induced labour. In exchange for this pleasant bit of news, he then confronts us with the 'increasing likelihood' that the baby's problems are 'inherent' and potentially 'metabolic, chromosomal or genetic'. Not that I'm quite sure which is which, but they all spell bad news. Of course there is a chance that 'this is just a small baby' but somehow the good man seems to think that this is not the case, although he kindly adds that he really hopes he's wrong. He notes on the baby documents that after delivery, it must be checked over by the paediatrician ASAP, and that blood from the chord must be sent for chromosomal analysis. On that note, we are booked in for yet another scan next week (what for exactly I'm not sure), and sent on our way.
Since I've chosen to be scared into a state of shock - puppy dog eyes do that to me -it's Jose's job to be optimistic and disregard the doctor's suspicions as scientifically unsupportable nonsense. He duly plots all figures in charts, proves that baby has mostly kept growing along its established graphs with the exception of the abdominal circumference, and for good measure goes on to blame me for not eating enough. (But i DO! Anyone who knows me or has ever seen me eat ANYTHING will be able to confirm that it would be most disconcertingly out of character for me not to eat! Loads!)
In numbers: Baby seems to keep growing in length without putting on adequate amounts of fat. As per scan man's machinery, the little dude currently weighs a specific 2259g (it should weigh around 2900g now to fit in with statistics), with a specific error rate of '+/- 334g'. Which is quite a lot.
Also quite a lot is the amount of pasta Jose heaps onto my plate for dinner that night. About three times the portion anyone in their normal minds would consider. And that's before half way through his somewhat smaller portion he pretends to be full and heaps his remaining dinner onto my plate as well. For the rest of this pregnany, I will be questioned every night about what I've eaten in the day, and how much of it. With the exception of weekends when he's around to supervise food intake.
I want this baby out. NOW. So I can check it and make sure that it's all right. Also so that I can decide whether I need to return the yellow or pink baby blanket to GAP (possibly along with the pink bathing suit and babygro) and make some more good use of those sales. Of course, before that happens, I need just another few days to defrost and restock the freezer, do some more washing and ironing (just a little!), and possibly go strawberry picking (I would not insist on cooking jam, just eating a few fresh kilos of strawberrys would be fine as well, possibly during labour).
(Note to Jennifer, who told me off for my liberal interpretation of my doctor's orders to 'potter about' at home or have a walk in the park at best: I would only potter about the strawberry field. Promise.)
Then I'll start looking out for the following signs of an imminent labour and birth:
1. Backache (which is not directly related to having been pottering about village fetes, country fairs or strawberry fields for hours)
2. A 'runny tummy' (as Sonja so elegantly puts it) - diarrhoea (which mustn't be directly related to having eaten four peaches and two mangoes just because they were so sweet and juicy and I got greedy, or because Jose was watching)
3. The inexplicable desire to potter about nowhere but at home (Inexplicable indeed. At any rate, should this happen, I must get myself into town immediately and start hanging out at Marks & Spencers. I'm told that if my waters break at M&S, I'll be presented with tons of vouchers for baby stuff. Not that I need any more baby stuff just now but vouchers are great things to have, much cooler than even the sales themselves).
For now, none of the above is happening, although we are in week 38 tomorrow and officially 'full term'. But it could be any day now! It could be another 2-4 weeks as well if our baby decides it won't want out yet, now that there won't be an induction. This baby really is full of surprises, not just its gender and the size of its nose! Or, before I forget, potential metabolic, chromosomal or genetic problems.